


clair de lune / promenade sentimentale

by velvetvelour



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Developing Relationship, Drabble Collection, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, LOL i rlly dont know what to tag ever, Living Together, M/M, Multi, PLEASE get him some medieval therapy, Pining, Post-Canon, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Tenderness, Vampires, YEARNING PINING CRAVING, alucard is the saddest bitch on the planet, at least until the next season comes out and all of this is void, bc i really cant write without it lmfao, lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-09-25 09:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 15,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetvelour/pseuds/velvetvelour
Summary: “Let me stay with you.”-To leave him all alone in that empty castle, you thought, would sit with you no better than if you had ripped the heart from his chest yourself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heres something new lol ... i've gotten in the habit of writing relatively long chaptered stories (for me at least) which means that it takes me forever to write them so i thought i would return to my drabbley literary origin and try something with installments where i try to portray a scene in as few words as possible, therefore finishing chapters easier and posting more often .... Hopefully ... though they definitely wont all be as short as this first one ... anyway i love u adrian <3

“Let me stay with you.”

There’s a pause, a slight shift in his elegant features as his eyes connect with yours that makes you aware of just how audacious your statement came off to be. You exhale through your nose, a ghost of a laugh, and fill your lungs to try again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so forceful,” you say, keeping your voice soft--Sypha may still be within earreach as she busies herself with helping Trevor pack the wagon, scolding him as she does so, and you aren’t sure that you want her hearing such an exchange. “I mean that... I’d like to stay here. Only if you’ll have me, of course.”

“You don’t want to leave with them?” he asks, matching your volume. His pale eyes sway back to the rowdy duo before you, who seem to be double checking everything they’d packed thus far, their banter warming your heart even as mere background noise.

“No, I--Well, I did, but…” The proper words evade you, but you try to explain nonetheless. “What’s here interests me more, and, well, they don’t much need me, do they?” 

He glances again, far more cutting this time as he studies your face through the corner of his eye.

“And I do?”

“Maybe,” you offer lightly, but there’s a drop of cold in your stomach, a growing sapling of worry that you’ve managed to offend him on top of everything else on his shoulders. He returns a blithe scoff, and it’s roots begin to dissipate. 

“Certainly not,” he states, but he turns towards you a little, and his arms come up to hug each other as a fraction of a smile lifts the corners of his lips. The waves of his hair shift along with him, and it gleams like warm silver as the descending sunlight hits it from a different angle. God, does he even know what he’s doing? 

“Even still…” you prompt hopefully.

“Even still,” he echoes, “you may stay so long as you desire. There is no shortage of rooms in the castle, and I have no reason to deny you one of them.”

Relief stills the tension in your shoulders at his words, and you match his smile tenfold, feeling almost as if you’ve succeeded in something devious.

“Thank you, Alucard.”

“It’s only polite,” he insists, and there’s a gleam in his eyes as he gestures towards your companions. “Would you like to share the news that you prefer me over them, or shall I?”

How silly of you to forget that audacity is no stranger to him as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since that first chapter was basically nothing, i'm adding the second chapter soon to give the story a liiiiittle more substance and hopefully give you all reason to actually want to read more dsjkfhdsfsk but dont expect such speedy updates all the time!

“All alone with him in that giant castle?” Sypha asks. The proposition surely took her off guard, but not so much as Trevor, who appears dumbfounded beyond words. For the moment, at least.

“Yes,” you say. “I can’t imagine going back home after everything that’s happened.”

Of course, they feel the same.

“Why not come with us, then?” Trevor asks, and you can tell his question is genuine, no matter how rude it may come off. You insisted on saying your last goodbye on your own, leaving Alucard to wait at a distance behind before the two went on their way, but you doubted those vampiric ears of his would be foiled by a few meters.

“It may be selfish of me, but I feel that I belong here,” you say. “I want to help in the aftermath of all this, but…” You pause--clear your throat, and drop your voice to the lowest whisper you can, hoping desperately that Alucard’s attention may simply lie elsewhere at this moment. “There is help to be offered here as well. I don’t want to leave him.”

There is a drop in both of their expressions; surely, they understand what you mean. Though, that doesn’t make it any less flustering to admit.

“Don’t let that pasty bastard bore you to death, then,” Trevor exclaims, giving your shoulder a rough pat, and you lightheartedly smack his hand away.

“I’d sooner wish to be  _ bored  _ to death than  _ annoyed  _ to death,” you counter, and place your own hand on Sypha’s shoulder, wearing a look of theatrical sympathy. “Hang in there.”

“I will do my very best!” Sypha assures you with a giggle, and Trevor contests, but you don’t quite catch what he says, because out of the corner of your eye, you see that Alucard is staring at you. Paralyzingly, he stares at you, and you wish you hadn’t been so honest about your intentions, because he definitely heard you, and now you would have to face him, live with him knowing that he knows exactly  _ why. _

Will he resent your pity? You hope, you beg that he doesn’t.

And still, he stares.

There’s a final goodbye, with plentiful hugs from Sypha and a final glimpse of Trevor’s relatively endearing awkwardness, and then you’re alone with him. You fiercely watch your companions ride away for as long as you possibly can, but soon their carriage nearly vanishes from sight, and Alucard’s presence is tangible beside you, waiting stilly and patiently like a bright and unrelenting light in your peripheral vision. Fleetingly, you wonder if you should’ve just left as well.

No, don’t be silly. How could you leave?

When it no longer makes sense to watch the stretching path before you, you turn your head to look at Alucard. He stares at you--not discontentedly, but serenely, simply waiting until you’re ready to leave. You offer a smile, and the way he returns a fraction of it back to you sets your nervous heart at ease.

“Shall we, then?” he offers. You sigh deeply, a hopeful release.

“I suppose we shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it isnt much to go off but i would love to hear anyone's first impressions thus far ! hehe


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot that the third "chapter" i had written was extremely short so i wont force you all to wait for it any longer LMAO

“Most of the rooms down this hall are bedrooms,” he says, and your brain struggles to process his words while also recording a mental map of how on Earth you actually arrived here from the front entrance. “Though I cannot attest that they are completely without damage, they should all be intact. If you do find any damage, I doubt it would take long to repair. If you plan to stay… that long.”

He looks away from you, those last two words spoken in a more hushed tone, under his breath. If you do. If, if, if...

“Thank you, Alucard,” you say, as it is all that you can say. Allowing you to share his childhood home with him at such a time is more than enough generosity, and you have no desire to be a burden in any manner. You would've been more than content sleeping on the ground after pushing such an intrusion on him.

“Take as much time as you’d like to choose,” he says, and hands you the lantern he used to guide you through this much darker wing of the castle. Subconsciously, you accept it, and it isn’t until you’ve inched your way towards the closest door and hesitantly swung it open that you realize he is no longer with you.

“Ah,” you note, looking around you fully just to make sure. It’s no bother, of course, as he is entitled to as much privacy as he desires in his own home, but, well. You simply hope that you remember your way back to the front hall, at the very least. Something tells you that Dracula’s castle is not quite the safest place to end up lost in. 

Well, no matter. Surely, there will be plenty to occupy yourself with in the room of your choosing until he returns.

…

Oh, you hope dearly that he intends to return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself i would wait until tomorrow at the very least to post again but i legitimately couldnt help myself . i decided i can't post a chapter until i have written another one so that i'll always be ahead of myself, but, well. i've written two chapters today alone LOL

He does not return. 

Eventually, the growl of your stomach beckons you out of your admittedly rather cold and lonely room, and with it grows an unaddressed concern. Does Dracula’s castle store food for humans? With Alucard’s mother having lived here, you assume that there must be some, but the potential quality of what is left in her tragic absence is somewhat worrying. 

Wait a moment. Does  _ Alucard  _ eat food?

You’ve never given it much thought, with the frequent sight of those daunting fangs leading you to unconsciously assume the answer to be  _ no _ . However, since he awakened, he doesn’t seem to have sought out any blood. Though, you haven’t seen him need to eat anything either. You pause for a moment as you ponder this conundrum, lantern in hand as you stand before an intersection of hallways, though when you realize what you’re doing, you wave away the trail of thoughts and continue on your way. You can simply  _ ask  _ him, for God’s sake. 

Minutes pass, and you realize that you’ve definitely taken a wrong turn somewhere. You seem to have made it into some sort of laboratory, stocked with tubes and vials of strange substances you couldn’t hope to recognize, and machinery that seems almost otherworldly in its advancement. 

You hate to snoop. But you will.

You take your time to examine your surroundings in this grand room, and then in the next one, and the next one after that. By now, you are undoubtedly far off track, but so long as you’re lost, you might as well enjoy yourself. You walk through a room filled with musical instruments, some of which you’ve never seen before in your life, and a few doors down sits a room scattered with parchment drawings and stretched canvases, and walls filled nearly to the ceiling with paints and pigments and tools with which to mix and apply them. There’s later a room that looks strangely like the inside of a cathedral, which baffles you to no end, but you choose only to peek in through that doorway. You find it hard to believe that the legendary Dracula was much of a religious man.

It’s when your incessant stomach becomes more of a pain than a nuisance that you become more serious about finding Alucard, or at least finding the kitchen on your own. You’ve entered a much more unnerving area of the castle as well, and the strange noises that keep bouncing hauntingly off of the walls puts a great deal more urgency in your step. So much so that when you slam through a doorway and into a more brightly lit central hall, finally running into who you hope dearly but somehow doubt is the only other living creature in this building, you quite literally run into him.

Well. At least you've found him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @__@

It’s quite startling for the both of you, and Alucard, who boasts the unfortunate combination of bony and immovable, does not make for a very comfortable collision, but you’re too relieved to care much.

“Oh, Alucard,” you sigh heavily with relief, catching your breath after all your anxious scurrying. “It’s you. I’m glad I--”

Your words cut out as you look at him. He wears a look of mild surprise, but that’s not what catches your breath in your throat. Alucard, so abundantly pale and golden, has a tint of pink in his face that you’ve never seen before. It’s faint, but visible in the firelight, concentrated around his eyes, the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You inhale, the slightest gasp, but your mouth hangs open uselessly. This is why you’re here, isn’t it? Why can’t you find any words? All you do is repeat his name, softly, and wish you were brave enough to touch him.

He looks away from you, clearing his throat as he realizes what you see, and you scream at yourself inside your head to just say something,  _ anything  _ before he changes the subject.

“...My apologies,” he says lowly, after a moment. “I should not have left you without a map, at the very least.”

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assure him urgently, perhaps a little too much so. “It was no trouble. It’s very interesting to explore the place where someone like you grew up.”

“Someone like me,” he repeats, finding interest in the phrase, and you clam up.

“Well, I mean--like you as in… you know what I mean,” you stutter hopelessly. God, was it always this difficult to speak to him without sounding stupid?

“I suppose I do,” he says, and he exhales, a whisper of laugh somewhere within the sound. At that moment, you feel another rumble approaching from your stomach, but it’s outrageous volume when it hits makes your face warm. “Ah, and hungry as well. How awful. I’ve sent you to your room without supper, haven’t I?”

“It’s no bother,” you say once again, at this point feeling almost redundant in your assurances. “Please, feel no need to accommodate me any more than you already have.”

“Shall I let you starve, then?”

“Well, I’d appreciate a finger in the right direction, at the very least,” you say, stifling a laugh.

“That’s all?” he asks, with a muted chuckle of his own. “Unfortunately, I consider myself reasonably well-mannered, so I’d ask you to let me escort you.”

“Shall I take your arm, then?” you say, and though you’re even surprised yourself to hear such words leave your mouth, he does exactly as you half-jokingly asked, and with minimal hesitation and grave contentment, you accept. His arm is warm through the sleeve of his shirt, but you feel just short of mortified after the fact for making him do such a thing. You hope dearly that he cannot tell.

It’s hard to tell what face he’s making at his side, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye once more before setting his gaze in front of him.

“Right this way, then.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still alive guys !!!! just busy enough that i may have possibly forgotten that i have 3000 in-progress fics !!!!! oops !!!

“I… hope this will suffice for the time being. My apologies, again.”

“Oh, don’t worry. This is wonderful, Alucard, thank you.”

Wonderful, of course, is a bit of a stretch, but you were referring more to his hospitality than the food itself. There was no need for him to go to such lengths as to prepare your meal himself, though you were powerless before his obstinance. Perhaps he was so insistent in regret for what exactly he had to offer.

You aren’t completely sure what sits unappealingly in the bowl before you, but you do know that it is at the very least edible. The beige-grey and concerningly lumpy pulp that Alucard has given you will be far from the best meal you’ve ever had, but you’re thankful that it at least steams with warmth that is sure to soothe your frigid flesh. 

Confidently, you grasp the spoon in your hand and lift the first bite of the porridge to your mouth without hesitation, determined not to appear ungrateful, and…

It’s not bad. Really, it’s not. There isn’t much taste to it, honestly, and though the texture is a little less than ideal, it’s heavy enough that it’s sure to fill your stomach well. Alucard watches you sympathetically, and after a moment, clears his throat.

“I…” he starts again, no doubt elongating his apology. “Normally, I--...Well, I haven’t got much of an excuse. Before… there would’ve been much more than this available.”

He pauses, and your mind begins to race.  _ Say something, say something, don’t let him dwell on what’s happened, _ but he continues before you have the chance.

“Tomorrow, I’ll search out some proper food, and--”

“This _ is _ proper food, Alucard,” you argue. “It tastes fine, and I’m not particular. You don’t have to do that for me.”

He blinks.

“...Does it?” he asks in disbelief, and your mouth falls open scandalously.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t sample your creation before serving it?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks the slightest bit sheepish.

“Well… If you found it inedible, I would’ve searched for something else.”

“How shameful,” you joke with a shake of your head, but you wear a smile. “Your well-mannered status has been revoked, and I sentence you to a dreaded taste test.”

You lift the spoon from your dish once again, careful not to allow any drips or spills, and extend it towards him. His eyebrows raise at he stares at your offering (or rather, demand), and the moderately sickened look on his face almost makes you laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’re a picky eater,” you accuse.

“No, I… That’s…” 

At his response, you do laugh a little, but your breathing stills as his slender hand gently steadies the spoon atop your own, and he (quite reluctantly) accepts the bite. For a moment after, you feel a little appalled at yourself, wondering what on Earth possessed you to go so far in teasing him over something so inconsequential, but you snap out of that train of thought when you notice that he couldn’t even take all of what was held on the spoon. You never guessed that you would witness the most composed and elegant man you’ve ever met cower before a bowl of mush.

“Oh, it’s awful,” he says, and it shows on his face. “I’m torturing you.”

“It is  _ not!” _ you argue, almost as though you had made it yourself.

“It is,” he insists. “Tomorrow, I believe you’ll find that I’m capable of cooking meals that actually taste good as well.”

You sigh, trying to seem petulant, but the corners of your mouth can’t seem to remain downwards as you intend. 

“Then, I suppose I’ll look forward to it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy october, here's a present! this was originally going to be two separate chapters, but since the first part is so short and they're both mostly internal monologues that happen at about the same time, i figured i'd post them together like this. pretty much, here's alucard's vibe check

It’s scary at nighttime. You didn’t think it would be, after the sheer amount of hellbeasts and vampires alike you’ve had to deal with in your quest, but somehow, it is. The darkness and silence are dreadful, and even keeping a lantern lit beside you does little to provide solace. If anything, the erratic flickering of the flame only spurs on the anxious atmosphere.

Where is Alucard? You don’t know where he sleeps.  _ Will  _ he sleep?

He hasn’t so long as you’ve known him, but, well, he isn’t human. If he can sleep for an entire year with no issue, and last even longer than that without eating, you wonder exactly how long he can stay awake.

He should sleep. You hope he does. The thought of him sitting alone, suffering at the mercy of his own thoughts throughout the night makes you nauseous. To prevent such loneliness is exactly why you stayed, and yet here you are. Useless.

You should’ve asked him where he’d be before he left you alone at your chosen room’s entrance. Surely, there would’ve been a casual way to do so. Just so you’d know. Just in case you had to find him.

It’s cold, and it pierces down to your spine.

You wish… you wish he was here. It feels silly, having only parted with him an hour ago at most, but you wish to see him again.

The memory of his warmth lingers on the arm that was earlier entwined with his own. Maybe he’ll let you hold it again tomorrow.

Yes, you hope so. Just for a little while.

-

Why did you stay?

Well… he  _ knows  _ why, he supposes, though it’s strange. Though he’s spent the past few days in your company, it wasn’t until that moment, that very audacious moment, that he saw you for the first time. He looked at you, truly, and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to look at you any other way again.

Briefly, after the deed was done, Alucard wondered if he was destined to live through the same fate as his father. Not the corruption or the hatred, or so he hoped, but the loneliness. He had resigned to his impending isolation, and morbidly, there was a part of him that was intrigued at the thought of living as his father did. Of understanding how he felt for the majority of his everlasting life. But he has no need to ponder over that anymore, not for the time being, at least. No, now he is interested in something else. 

Is this how it felt, he wonders, when his mother arrived at his doorstep?

A silly thought, perhaps. Surely not.

But… he can’t help but wonder why. Why do you want to be here, why do you care? And Alucard is sure his father was struck with a similar conundrum.

He is no stranger to kindness. Alucard was raised in the gleaming kindness of his mother, and the reserved, clumsy kindness of his father. Sypha is kind to him, and even Trevor, in his own way. And you are kind. But this… this is inexplicable. Your aiding him in his goal was more than kindness enough, and yet you’re still here. For him, apparently.

He can’t imagine that you find this place pleasant, or comfortable. You’ve never mentioned having a particular interest in the sciences, magic, or any similar scholarly pursuits that the castle would give you access to. All that seems to be tethering you here is… him. But that doesn’t make any sense.

How can you care this much? For him, a stranger, and a vampire, no less. He’s done nothing for you, and you hold no debt to him that must be repaid. Yet still, you’ve chosen to remain. He can’t wrap his head around it.

Perhaps he is misunderstanding, or jumping to a conclusion. There must be some other reason, surely, though he wishes you’d just tell him what it is so he can be of more assistance. Well, not that he especially wants you complete whatever goal you may have and leave expeditiously. You’ve prevented him from feeling truly alone, if only for a little while, and he’s grateful for that.

...Selfishly, he hopes you take your time. A week, he begs, before you leave him.

No, no, that’s too much. Just a couple of days is all he can ask for. Or, is that too much as well?

...What’s become of him, longing for your company so pathetically?

Indulge him, he pleads to himself. Just for a little while.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays who anyone who celebrates something this month! i binge watched all of castlevania again the other day, so i've been very much in love with alucard all over again and inspired with a few new ideas for chapters ~ i can't promise i'll get another one out too soon, but i've got much more free time so i hope to post at least a tiny bit more regularly since this is the easiest fic for me to write. (rip to my other works TT___TT)

“Really, you could’ve let me help.”

“Nonsense.”

You should have guessed. Waking up to find such a display waiting for you in the kitchen was certainly pleasant, but your excitement was instantly soured by the knowledge that he’d gone and done it on his own before you could insist on coming with him.

“Were you out all night?”

“No, not all night.”

“I’m taking advantage of your kindness,” you sigh, and pick up an apple to inspect from the basket of fruit that sits before you. Perfectly, impossibly ripe. Damn him.

“Isn’t it the other way around?” He’s wrapping a fresh loaf of bread in some cloth. How far must he have gone to come across  _ that? _

Your face twists.

“You must be joking.”

He hums. Your eyes land on a pile of vegetables, so green and vibrant that he must have taken great care in only choosing those of the highest quality he could find.

“Well, at least you’ll share in it.” Your eyes widen at nothing. “Or, if, I suppose--… What I mean to say is, you  _ will, _ won’t you?”

“...Will I  _ eat?” _ he asks, and you can feel warmth spreading across your face. There’s really no proper way to ask such a thing, is there?

“Um…”

“Would it make you more comfortable if I ate with you?” he asks, and the question is gentle, but something about it shocks you, and regrettably, it shows on your face.

“That… isn’t what you meant, is it?” He chuckles almost weakly. “Sorry, I’m not quite used to having to explain my own physiology.”

“You don’t have to,” you interject hastily, mortified in such a way that is starting to feel comfortable.

“It isn’t exactly secret,” he attests, and the lightness of his expression assures you somewhat. “You’d like to know what I eat, yes? Which half of my being ordains my diet?”

It feels awfully invasive when he puts it that way. You aren’t here to  _ study  _ him.

“Well, I didn’t want to seem foolish by...  _ presuming.” _

“There’s nothing foolish about it. My particular kind is exceptionally rare. I’d be quite surprised if you  _ did  _ know. Perhaps even suspicious”

“So then,” you brave, with a quaint smile. “...Do you eat food?”

“I do.”

“But...  _ must  _ you?”

He grins. 

“To survive, no. Though, I do enjoy the taste.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, and he coughs.

“Well… at times.” 

You bite your lip to stifle an ample grin, but it fades away easily as you think of your next question.

“Then, to survive, you need…” You don’t think you need to finish the question. There’s a pause before he answers.

“...Blood, yes, though I’m sure you expected as much,” he says, his words coming out notably faster than usual. His hands quicken suddenly in his task, which now seems to require his gaze as well. “But it isn’t a constant need. I don’t hunger for it as desperately as a starving human might hunger for food. If I were to go too long without any blood, I would merely feel weak, and my vampiric abilities would be limited. The frenzies that my kind is known for are driven by sadism and gluttony, rather than any sort of dire, unquenchable thirst. Also, as you might have noticed by now, it isn’t particularly common that I need to seek out blood.”

“Alucard,” you interject just as he's about to start another sentence, bewildered by his sudden racing monologue, and he pauses, looking at you as though you’re the one who’s acting strangely. You giggle. “Thank you, that’s more than enough for me. There’s no need for you to exhaust yourself.”

“Of course,” he says, and looks down once again.

Something in the air suddenly feels odd, and it occurs to you that perhaps he  _ wanted _ to share such a surplus of information, and was not simply going above and beyond for your curiosity (or reassurance) as you thought. Perhaps you can reignite the topic.

“But, even if you don’t need it often,” you brave, and pause for a moment, thinking. You have his full attention. “Um… does it taste good? I mean, do you crave it more often than you must consume it?”

A moment passes as he looks at you in a way that you can’t quite place, and you try to figure out what was wrong with your question.

“...Not so much that I’d…” He trails off, clears his throat. “I’d never… So long as you remain here, you won’t have to worry.”

He can’t seem to spit it out in clear terms, but he’s said more than enough for your face to light up in terrible realization.

“Oh,  _ God, _ no, Alucard, that’s not why I asked,” you all but shout in your panic, wondering how you managed how to make the mood even worse. “Really, I’m not worried about that at all, I know you wouldn’t bite me without-- _ Ah,  _ no, just-- I trust that I'm in no danger with you.” You catch yourself before too many unwanted words can stumble out, but a wave of hot embarrassment drowns you nonetheless.

“...Did you say, ‘without’?” he echoes quizzically. Though he shows no mirth, you can't help but feel like he's on the verge of laughing at you.

“I just know you wouldn’t bite me, I meant,” you assure painfully.

“Without _ permission?” _ he guesses, and your horror must be obvious, because he turns his head away from you a moment later. “I’m sorry, that was a joke.”

Silence falls as Alucard returns to properly storing the literal fruits of his labor, and you can finally take a moment to recover from your near-disastrous misstep. Eventually, you catch notice of him glancing at you and cautiously meet his gaze, finding something about the way he narrows his eyes quite nerve-wracking.

“...You’re certain that isn’t what you meant to say?”

_ “Yes!” _ you lie. A cough bursts past your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the by, i have very little idea of the netflix series' intended vampire canon nor really that of the games so im just making it up based on my preferred physiological mechanisms for vampires in general :^) also im pretty sure game alucard doesnt need blood (considering he slept from like ... 1476 to 1785 until his internal Bitchass Dad Alert woke him up to go commit patricide, or so i recall) but thats so boring. So boring. why even have vampires if they don't need to drink blood, which is undoubtedly the sexiest part of vampirism? Adrian can have a little blood as a treat.
> 
> anyway, ill stop ranting


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant tell if i like this one very much or not ... :thinking:

“Have you read all of these books?”

“No, not nearly. But I surely spent more of my childhood here than in any other room in the castle.”

Maybe it was silly to ask. The impressive, heavenwards expanse of Dracula’s library fiercely rivals that of the Belmont estate below you, and perhaps defeats it, if the lack of a visible end in any direction from where you stand near the entrance is any indication. But, well,  _ you  _ don’t know how fast he reads. 

“I can tell. Since we met, you’ve always seemed very scholarly.”

“Well, one could hardly expect much else from the child of my parents,” he says, a muted pride in his voice, but his words weigh heavy on your shoulders. He wanders, attention drawn elsewhere for a moment, and you turn your back to him as well, approaching one towering wall of books, though you cannot say they truly hold your attention.

Try as you might to think of something new to say, to busy yourself with examining the dusty, endless volumes on shelves that rise above your head tenfold, you cannot shake a thought from your mind.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Though you remembered him to be at least 20 feet away from you before you turned your back, he suddenly picks out a book from the shelf just a few steps beside you. In the silence of the library, his movement was stressfully inaudible.

“And what could you possibly have to feel sorry about?”

“...For imposing on your childhood home,” you say; not a lie, but not what you meant either. You pick out a book of your own, struggling for a moment to wrench it out from its place while avoiding a shower of dust.

“Please,” he says. “This place was never meant to house one man alone. My father was proof enough.”

The book, you find, is very engaging, even without reading a single word on the page.

“...I think so, too.”

“Truthfully,” he begins delicately, “have you remained here for my sake?”

There’s a flicker of unease in your stomach. You toy with the corner of the page.

“I don’t take offense,” he continues, even lower than usual. “I just… can’t imagine why.”

“Why I’d want to stay in Dracula’s castle?” You flip now to the next page, staring quite intently and seeing nothing.

“Yes, that, but… why you’d care, as well.”

“About you, you mean? Why wouldn’t I care?” Casual, you beg, sound casual.

“...We’ve only known each other--”

“That doesn’t matter,” There’s a soft stretch of leather as your fingers dig tighter into the book’s cover. “Everyone needs companions, especially during awful times, and neither of us seem to have many of those right now. I didn’t want to be alone, and I imagined that you wouldn’t either.”

Your heartbeat rises to your attention, roused by what almost felt like a confession. Alucard idly turns a page, though you can feel his eyes on you.

“Surely you would’ve found more amusement and camaraderie if you’d gone along with Trevor and Sypha,” he tests.

“More  _ excitement  _ maybe, but I feel I’ve had more than enough of that for the foreseeable future.”

“...And me as well,” he agrees.

“See?” You grin without facing him. “You’re exactly who I’d prefer to be with, Alucard.”

“I might let that go to my head, you know.” There’s an unusual blitheness in his voice.

“Well, I would certainly hope so. I meant that quite sincerely.” He turns his head towards you in your peripheral, something teeming in his silence, and your ears become warm. What, you wonder, has emboldened you so much today? 

“Oh, this is rather strange,” he says suspiciously. “You haven’t drank anything unusual-looking lately, have you? Perhaps from the laboratory?”

“Now that you mention it…” You look up thoughtfully, then let your gaze slide to Alucard’s face of restrained expectancy and squint your eyes. “A joke. But, really, there wouldn’t actually be such a thing just sitting around in this place, would there? I can’t imagine Dracula would’ve had much use for a love potion.”

His expression fights itself, unsure if it wants to be serious or amused.

“That… isn’t quite what I had in mind,” he admits, clearing his throat, and returning his book to its spot on the shelf. “Though, I’m sure you can rest at ease, if that strikes you with concern.”

“Ah,” you say. You wonder, fleetingly, how painful it would be to sew your own mouth shut.

Unwilling to kick yourself while you’re down, you remain silent, but painfully aware of the way Alucard’s attention remains on you, and the soundless steps he takes in your direction. However, to your relief, he seems primarily interested in your book.

“I didn’t know you could read Punic,” he remarks with admiration.

_ “What?” _

For the first time, you truly look at the book you’d picked up, only to find nothing but gibberish. You shut it and return it to the shelf with both care and urgency.

“Yes, right, well,” you begin, clapping your hands together. “Would you like to--”

Without warning, your lungs seize with a cough, then another, another, until your face feels hot. You pat your chest with an annoyed groan, and swiftly find Alucard’s stomach nearly touching your arm, his hand at your back so lightly that you wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t see him there. His head is craned down slightly, brow furrowed, but all that you really see are the waves of his hair trickling down either side of his face like silk thread. He doesn’t belong in a place so dark and musty as this.

“It’s only the dust,” you rasp, wearing a smile of equal parts assurance and gratitude.

“...Right.”

But he does not move.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one feels... unfinished to me (my greatest critic, indeed), but i decided to kinda merge two separate chapter ideas i had into one, therefore it's already longer than i intended, so take this as a treat i guess!

You knew you could only hide from him for so long.

It’s silly, really. Upon waking up miserable, the rational thing to do would’ve been to inform your friend (because he  _ is  _ your friend) and see if he has some sort of remedy that would alleviate all your bothersome coughing and sniffling and aching. His mother was a doctor after all, and learned much of what she knew from his father, so there is no doubt that at least some of that knowledge was passed on.

But, well… you were _ embarrassed. _

The more you dwell on your thinking, the sillier it seems, especially now that he sits at your bedside with that terrible _what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you_ look on his face. 

“So, what you mean to say is, you’ve been hiding away in your room for the past seventeen hours because you’re  ashamed  to have fallen ill?”

You look down to your lap, picking bashfully at your nails, and though the dryness in your throat from your self-imposed seclusion is grating, you find it well deserved. “When you say it like that, I can’t much defend myself.”

“No, you cannot,” he assures, though his voice is brightened by one of his quaint smiles. “You’re aware this castle holds an entire laboratory dedicated to medicinal sciences, correct?”

“I… didn’t want to bother you with it.” You think you catch an airy chuckle, short bursts of air escaping his nose. 

It’s dark in your room. It always is, but now especially so, and you realize that it must’ve grown dark for a second time since you last saw him. No wonder he came looking. The light of the lantern he brought with him mixes with that of the small candelabrum it sits next to at your bedside, but the glow is still barely enough to illuminate the two of you. The walls feel much closer than they truly are, and it gives you a feeling of conspiracy. Or perhaps intimacy, that word you dare not think.

“You would prefer that I might think you to have dropped dead somewhere?”

Surprise pulls your gaze back to him. “Did you really think that might've happened?”

“No,” he admits, and his own eyes are locked where yours rested a moment before. “I assumed you were merely sleeping late or keeping to yourself, until it began to get dark and I hadn’t even felt you leave for food.” 

“What do you mean, ‘felt’?” You tilt your head at him, sniffling, and his eyebrows twitch together, mouth opening and closing as though he is at a loss for what to say. 

“Nothing at all,” he decides finally, and you frown but push no further. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no, I’m alright.” He looks doubtful. “Really, I was only being dramatic, I could’ve gotten up just fine at any time.”

As if to spite you, a fit of coughing overtakes you quite suddenly, wrenching grossly from your throat until your face grows hot and your hand clutches at your chest. 

“...Alright, it hurts a little in here,” you say hoarsely, smacking your hand atop your sternum a couple times, “but that’s only from the coughing.”

Alucard leans closer, and his hand, long and lithe, hovers delicately before you. It’s nearly suffocating to have him this close to you, and if you didn’t find it pleasant, you might curse yourself for insisting he sit in the first place. “May I?”

You nod, but it’s not until his skin comes in contact with your forehead that you even realize his intention. Though his palm is flat against your clammy skin, his touch somehow feels as light as a feather, as though a mild gust of wind could blow his hand away. His eyes flicker across your features, and though his expression is as blank and even as one might wear while reading a book, you worry the heat that rises to your face under his stare may skew the results of his examination. Surely, he must notice.

“You’ll be fine,” he states after a moment, his hand slipping gracefully back to his lap. “You have no fever. A day or two, no more, I’m sure.”

“Ah, that’s good,” you sigh. “I sort of feared I’d end up bedridden for a while, and that would make me an awfully dull guest.” 

“I doubt your awfully-dull host would mind.” You gesture your hand at him flippantly, and his eyes widen a fraction, as though he assumed you actually meant to hit him.

“Alucard, you are a vampire with the heart of a human,” you giggle. “That alone is infinitely more interesting than I will ever be.”

“I’m not so sure.” You scoff in protest. “I would argue that a human utterly devoid of fear or discomfort in the presence of said vampire is far more intriguing.”

“What’s there to fear?” He treats the question as though rhetorical, and his expression turns thoughtful.

“Trevor and Sypha are of the miniscule amount of humans who do not see me solely as a hellish creature to be slain, or ran from until blood stains the soles of their shoes.” The corners of his lips turn up, but you aren’t sure it quite counts as a smile. “But even they feared for your safety in isolation with me.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you’re lucky to have your illness as an excuse for the sheen of sweat that breaks out on your face. At the time, you assumed he heard that final conversation you shared with them before their departure, but the confirmation is mortifying to face. 

“No, that was… They were only surprised, since I’d already told them before that I’d depart with them. They know you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

Something condescending works its way into his gaze, and you don’t much like it. “Trevor is of a family that has hunted my kind for sport and for their morbid sense of pride stretching back centuries. He may treat me as much as a friend as he can bring himself to, but I highly doubt I could ever hold his trust. I expect they’ll both return for a visit some time before the year ends, largely to make sure I haven’t yet succumbed to my nature and eaten you.”

“That’s awful,” you say, squirming as nausea bubbles and turns in your stomach. “Please, that isn’t… Trevor may have been disagreeable towards you, but you dealt as good as you were given. You cannot say you haven’t grown to be companions. It was clear that both of them were worried about you before they left.”

“Yet only one of three could bear to endure my presence a moment longer than needed.”

His words rend you with shock, and his hair shimmers in the candlelight like it has so many times before as he turns his head away from you, waves of pale gold hiding his face from your fraught and probing gaze. Hearing such resentment woven into his impassive voice felt like a blow to your already weak stomach, but as you think over his words, you find that perhaps such feelings should’ve been foreseeable to you. The skin of your palms sting as your fists clench tightly in your lap, and you cannot stand the minute of silence that follows.

“All those days in the library,” you push yourself to begin, loathing the sickly tinge in your voice, “you were like a ghost. Unless Sypha was verging on a breakthrough, I hardly ever caught sight of you. Trevor and Sypha, they took to each other quite quickly, as I’m sure you noticed, and even I couldn’t fit into the friendship that was growing between them. I felt as a ghost as well, and it may be selfish, but I only wish I’d been brave enough to seek you out while they giggled together between the aisles, that at least my silence could be shared. Perhaps that is why I couldn’t bring myself to leave along with them. I hoped that we might take to each other as well, if given the chance.”

Despite your heartfelt words, Alucard doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move once you’ve finished speaking. But when you groan a moment later, slumping your weight forward defeatedly, his head twitches back in your direction.

“How is it that I’m always so intent on saying embarrassing things in front of you?” you whine, furrowing your brow severely. “I implore you to let me starve.” 

“...Unfortunately, I cannot,” he says quietly, and though you still cannot see his face, you’re confused to hear that his voice sounds just as hoarse as yours. “If you were to perish, my plans of eating you would all go to waste.”

You giggle, straightening your back once more, and delightfully, the air feels a little warmer again.

“Well, we certainly cannot have that.”

“Precisely,” he says as he rises silently to his feet, and you can’t hide your disappointed pout. “Now, for that exact reason, I must ask you to stay put while I retrieve your food and physic.” 

“I’ll come along,” you attempt.

“You will not.”

“Or you’ll bite me?”

“Hm…" He tilts his head in such a way that you're tempted to call playful. "Better to not risk it, I’d say.”

“Oh my, how frightening,” you sigh theatrically, but the effect is lessened by a sniffle. “Then, I suppose I’ll do as the scary vampire asks, just this once.”

“How terribly kind of you.”

As he takes the lantern from the table beside you, moving rather lethargically in what you hope is reluctance to leave your bedside, you’re pleased to see one last upturn of his lips before he turns back towards the darkness he emerged from. Mere seconds after the door closes heavily behind him, you wonder if he’d be inclined to scold you for wrapping your blanket around your shoulders and sneaking along after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise im not trying to portray trevor and sypha badly, i just wanted to throw in a little more #angst than i've been writing and so i delved into my own personal #headcanon that adrian is not quite as fond of either them as fanon tends to portray him... i mean, i can't imagine he's very fond of humans overall outside of his oath to protect them from his father, and on top of that he was made to awkward-third-wheel as their friendship developed rapidly and exclusively before his eyes, and then they left him without a second glance LMAO. like, i love trevor and sypha, but if i was adrian, i know i certainly wouldn't be overly attached to them


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright. the main reason i am posting again so soon is because, if you haven't heard, season 3 drops a month from now, so i'm feeling both the excitement of seeing that beautiful blonde once again and the fear of knowing that there's a very solid chance that everything in this fic will become completely canon non-compliant the moment it releases. which, honestly, doesn't bother me all that much fundamentally, but what really worries me is that the new season will give me a new concept idea that i'll focus all of my energy into instead, meaning that this work would end up neglected, if not downright abandoned, and i still have a fair amount of chapters in the works, so that would suck all around. or maybe, by some miracle, it will all fit in perfectly and there won't be any problems. luck of the draw, i suppose.
> 
> anyway, light trigger warning for (in my opinion, tasteful) descriptions of blood/minor injuries, nothing too wicked.

Many of the moments you spend with Alucard are warm, but you are not so foolish as to think that every moment of his time is as such. There are days when you hardly see him, times when he excuses himself suddenly and without warning, conversations where his words are terse and incomplete, and his voice cannot climb above a whisper. Sometimes, when you look for him, wandering the grey stone halls and calling his name every so often as you go, he never appears, though you’re sure he can hear you.

It’s alright; you would not want to bother him in his solitude. But you can’t help but wonder if remaining in the castle is hurting him. 

He is surrounded constantly by the reminders of everything he’s lost, grief and regret swaying heavily above his head in every chandelier, woven into every carpet and stained brightly in the windows. Living in this loveless, empty labyrinth without the faces of those he held so dear could be as an intimate hell to him, tailored especially to his greatest torments. You dreaded this idea before, and wanted so dearly to help him through it, to give him warmth and support in fear of what may become of him without it, but at times, you wonder if that wasn’t an act of selfishness in disguise. 

What made you think you could help him? That you could truly ease that which makes him suffer? You are only a voyeur, leeching off of his gentle heart and stalking through his halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of that poor, sad, beautiful creature crumbling under the weight of his own home. 

He might say that you’re being cruel to yourself, but would that be true, or simply more of his generosity? You told Sypha and Trevor before that you wanted to stay to help him, but what have you really done besides demand his attention and stutter over your own probing curiosity? Maybe it is even selfish to call yourself his friend. 

These thoughts don’t truly sink in until you lie awake one morning, laying numbly in your--no,  _ his  _ bed and realizing that Alucard has housed you, fed you, and cured you of illness while you’ve done nothing but float about uselessly, taking from him gladly with nothing at all to give.

It is unfair. Cruel, even. If you lack the spine to stretch out your hand to him in matters of the heart, then clearly, you must find some other way to do so. Spirited in the wake of this decision, you throw yourself from your bed, nearly forgetting to change into day clothes before you burst from your quarters in a determined rush.

You’re caught within twenty minutes.

“...What on Earth are you doing?”

You think it’s rather obvious what your intentions are as you carefully gather broken stone and shattered glass into the center of a sturdy sheet of canvas, but you suspect his question may not be quite so literal.

“I’m cleaning,” you announce from where you sit on the ground, clapping your hands to do away with the excess dust. Alucard looks distraught. “It would be a shame to let such a beautiful castle settle into disrepair.”

“I do agree,” he says reluctantly, “but you have no obligation to do so.”

“Don’t I? I was part of the attack that destroyed it, you know.”

“Hardly. The vast majority of the damage to the castle was caused by my father and I. And, you’re a guest.”

“Or a resident,” you argue, carefully pushing yourself up to stand, but not quite careful enough, as you feel a sharp pain dig into one of your fingers. It’s easy enough to ignore. “And it’s not as though I’ve made myself particularly useful around here. Consider this payment for my lodging.”

“Your presence in itself more than suffices in that regard."

“My friendship carries no trade value, Alucard, nor would you cease to receive it in my absence.” You cross your arms, resolute. “I’d like to recompense you in a more corporeal way, if you don’t mind. It’s the absolute least I could do.” 

“You say that as if you’ve burdened me in some terrible way.” He speaks as though the mere thought is ridiculous. “I’d have you here as long as you desire. There’s no debt to be repaid.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Maybe a little,” he agrees. “Is that so bad?” 

There’s a hole in the tinted window somewhere above your head, and a beam of light spills through to where Alucard stands on the other side of your little mountain of debris, illuminating him so brightly that it almost hurts to keep your eyes on him. One doesn’t make a habit of staring at the sun, and for good reason indeed. 

“...It is, because it’s you." Really, doesn’t that light in his face bother him at all?

He squints his eyes at you. “What do you mean?”

“After all you’ve done for me,  _ I _ should be the one doing the spoiling, is what I mean.”

“You’re doing plenty,” he assures.

“I’m doing  _ nothing.” _

He shakes his head, sighing deeply with a noticeable rise and fall of his shoulders. “I can’t imagine why you’d think that. You’ve done more for me than anyone has since… since the passing of my mother, I suppose.” A shock runs down your spine.

“Well, that's...” Somehow, he’s stolen every word you’ve ever known from your head. “But, still...”

Flustered, among other things, you escape by crouching down, satisfied with the mass of debris that you’ve collected, and you gather each corner of the cloth that holds it. With an inhale, you hoist your collection from the ground, feeling the muscles in your arms strain for no more than a blink before Alucard has snatched it out of your hands, so fluidly that it takes you twice as long to even realize what he’s done.

“You’ve only just recovered. Straining yourself will do you no good.”

“I can handle a bag of stones, Alucard,” you argue, trying to take it back from him. He allows you to try, but it takes no effort on his part to keep it firmly and infuriatingly in his grasp. “You’re awfully stubborn, you know.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Calling on your own well of stubbornness, you change your strategy and try fruitlessly to pry his hand open, determined to finish your work on your own, but you freeze suddenly when you catch sight of the color red. 

“Oh, my God,” you gasp, recoiling as you realize that much of the inside of your hands have been smeared with crimson in your struggle…and the back his as well. “It was only a pinch, I…”

Alucard does not react much. Gently, he tosses the pile aside and glances blankly at his bloodied hand for no more than a second before it wraps gently around your wrist, urging your hand closer for him to see the source of the mess, a small incision in your middle finger that must’ve been just deep enough to knick a vein. If the sight or scent of your blood affects him at all, it is impossible to tell. 

“My, my,” he lilts. “I can’t leave you alone for a moment. Come along.”

He takes a step, maintaining his loose grasp as though to lead you, but in a surge of panic, you snatch your hand urgently back to yourself. Alucard’s shock bleeds visibly into his features.

“It’s fine, really, I can handle it myself,” you assure him quickly, but amiably as well to save face after such a harsh action. You cannot keep indulging in him like this, letting him take care of you so gently while you, shamefully, are unable to even tidy up a bit of debris without hurting yourself and bothering him. “It’s not an awful cut. I’ll return in a bit.”

“...Is there a reason you don’t want my help?” he asks quietly, and to your horror, you seem to have actually disconcerted him. His hands remain frozen in place, just as they were before you jerked your arm away, and the crease in his brow turns your stomach. “I apologize if I’ve become overbearing.”

_ “No!  _ No, that’s not it at all, I promise. I only--You need not go to the trouble, is all. You do more than enough for me as is.” As you gesture to emphasize your point, Alucard’s eyes are glued to your bloodied hand. His attention pulls your own there as well, and you see that a pair of gleaming drops have begun streaming over your palm and down your forearm. “Oh, my goodness.”

“If you do not want my aid, I will not force it on you,” he begins lowly as he reaches his hands out to you once more, softly urging your palm to face upwards, and your stained forearm stretches the space between you like a bridge. His fingers ghost over your skin, disrupting the streams of blood in their descent with a deliberate smear, and the deep red is vivid on his fingertips as it begins to stream down his skin as well. “But you have not troubled me once in your stay, and no amount of injuries or illnesses you may suffer will change that.” 

Between his mild touch and gentle words, Alucard might as well be squeezing a hand around your throat with how tight and choked it has become. You attempt to clear it, but any form of response still evades you, especially when you notice how his hand rests beneath your own to catch the drops that continue to fall sporadically from your finger. 

“...Also, incidentally, I believe it would prove rather difficult to tie a bandage around your finger with one hand. Just to keep in mind.”

When his words click together in your head you snort, and a small laugh springs past your lips soon after, breaking the spell of your silence.

“Alright,” you sigh, unable to fight your grin away, “alright. Though, I’m beginning to wonder if you don’t just enjoy playing doctor.”

"Oh," he mutters. His eyes flicker up to yours, demure and veiled in part by his eyelashes, and you’re suddenly quite aware of how the warmth from his hands seeps gently beneath your skin, and the glinting waves of his hair flow down nearly far enough to brush against your curled fingertips. It's as though you've only just realized how near he is to you, how gingerly he touches you, and how he's content to touch you at all, without the slightest regard to the blood that now stains his flesh as well. "Is it that obvious?"

A few seconds pass before you notice that your jaw hangs slack, and you snap your mouth shut with a resigned flush. Really, he must be doing this on purpose.

"...Yes, it is."

"I certainly hope you didn't hurt yourself for my sake, then." Once again, he tries to lead you down the hallway, and this time, you're quick to match his step.

"Well, how else might I get the vampire's attention?" He considers your question.

"An ingenious plan, I must admit. Though, in the future, I must suggest that you simply ask." He meets your eyes with a cutting glance, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards in such a way that puts a funny feeling in your chest, and you sigh. 

Sometimes, you want to curse him. If your apparent proclivities for catching ill and drawing your own blood don't kill you first, you’re certain this man will be the death of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the slight metaphor with the blood was too vague to get across effectively............. well, i've never claimed to be an english major.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was growing a little long-winded in the past couple chapters, so here's one closer to the length i originally intended to stick to, as well as another little look into adrian's perspective that I believe a few people wanted more of. so, without further ado, this one is called "adrian overthinks himself half to death over absolutely nothing"

Alucard wonders if he’s growing too attached to you.

At the start, he assumed that you’d be long gone by now, off to bigger and less stagnant things once you realized how truly little there is to be offered in this dusty mausoleum of a castle, but you haven’t. And it almost appears as though you don’t soon intend to.

There are no complaints to be had on his part, if that is truly the case. Though, something about it is strangely worrying.

Now, Alucard is far from the nervous type. In fact, one would be hard pressed to locate anyone more composed than he is, simply by nature. But on this particular afternoon, he can’t seem to keep his fingernail from scratching incessantly at the arm of his father’s chair. The sound, he thinks, is either cathartic or irritating, though he can’t be bothered to choose.

Alucard knows himself to be a cold being. He wasn’t always, of course--his childhood, though briefer than most, was much warmer. But he has, without question, grown into a frigid man. It does not bother him--it’s simply how he is--though it does come with its own disadvantages.

Most pressingly, Alucard does not know how to make friends.

This dilemma never really occurred to him before. In all his life, the only people Alucard could truly call his friends were his own parents. Being an introverted, academic, and reclusive child with little reason to ever leave the castle or the grounds that surrounded it, this was perfectly acceptable to him. He found it even more acceptable the more he grew, as he began to realize more and more that those outside of the castle, in the quaint little towns his mother so loved to visit, were even more averse to seeing him than he was them. Despite his isolated upbringing, loneliness was never something that Alucard feared until... recent events.

And though he should be alone, tormented by that deathly solitude, he is not. You have decided to be his friend.

Has he been a good friend to you in turn? He truly, honestly cannot tell. Alucard knows how to be nice, polite, and a selfless host all-around, though somehow he finds such behavior unlikely to be what truly defines a friendship. That, however, is not what troubles him the most.

Does he want to be your friend? Or does he want  _ you? _

The thought chills him. Is it your offer of friendship that makes him so content, or is it merely the idea that you might fill the void of care and attention left by his parents? Every time the shamefully delightful idea that you might decide to take permanent residence at the castle enters his mind, he nearly decides on impulse to shoo you away for your own good. A true friend would not entertain such a possessive thought, right? They wouldn’t yearn so incessantly for your constant presence and conversation in the way that a child might cling to their favorite toy… 

…Would they? Oh, what would his mother say?

Is there something that eludes him? He feels at times as though he’s treating you like a pet. The mere thought could make him retch, moreso when he recalls the times he’s seen and heard of members of his kind keeping humans at their side like one might keep a dog, treating them however they wish without a second thought, abusing and terrifying them for their sadistic pleasure until they inevitably grow bored of them and end their miserable lives, gorging on their blood and ridding themselves of the corpses as though they were never anything more than a lovely fruit to be swallowed down to the pit and discarded as trash.

No, no, he tears the picture from his mind. His blood will burn should it grow any more vivid.

...Speaking of you, he hears your footsteps. He’s felt you inching somewhere in his direction since before he was consumed so deeply by his thoughts, but by now you’ve strayed close enough that he’s sure he could be at your side in no more than a moment. And, well… it is his duty as your host to check in with you, is it not? 

He catches the scent of your blood, rich and brilliant, long before he’s near enough to see you, but as you come into view, he can’t decide which sense comforts him more. “Are you hungry?” 

“Ah, there you are,” you breathe. Is he deluded to think you sound pleased to see him as well? “No, I’m quite alright. I came to ask if you’d like to talk.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Of course. Is there something you want to speak about?” 

Your heart accelerates in your chest as his words come to an end, and he can feel it almost as though it were his own. 

“Oh, no, not really,” you say, though there’s such a nervous energy about you as you struggle to keep your eyes on him that you’re surely expecting something in particular. “Whatever you want. I’ll listen to anything.”

...Ah. It seems you’re offering him your shoulder. Alucard is no religious man, but if angels truly exist, he’s sure by now that you would find yourself among their ranks. The smile that tugs at his lips is as genuine as the warmth that swells in his chest at the gesture, but there’s something deep and cold he cannot do away with as well.

“Then I suppose you’ll allow me to bore you with the painful details of the book I read this morning?”

You look as though you weren’t expecting his response, but you gift him your smile nonetheless. “Oh, you could never bore me, but you’re more than welcome to try.” 

Perhaps, if he truly deserved you, he might actually share with you the burden you've offered so sweetly to help him carry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's really hard for me to remember to keep referring to him only as alucard since i prefer his actual name so much more, but i do indeed have a reason for it! hehe.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another shorty! season three is approaching RAPIDLY and im not much looking forward to this entire story being deemed impossible within the extended canon LOL, but i guess that's just me being picky. i like to fit my stories between the lines and within the shadows of canon, so they can exist believably in the unseen parts of the universe, in the time between scenes and just outside of frame. but i guess adding a fourth person to the patricide patrol already broke observed canon from the start, huh? oh well.

It’s when you’re on your way back in from town that it happens.

Rather than carry the burden of procuring food and other supplies on his own as he always insists, oft reminding you of just how swiftly the chore can be completed by his hands alone, you’ve today insisted that you fully intended to join him on the endeavor. The walk was long, but pleasant in his company, and the buzz of verdant life through the forest roads is a backdrop that suits him far better than the stale and gloomy halls of the castle. You’re pleased to find that he seems quite content as well despite how terribly you’ve slowed down the trek, something more lively in his eyes and in his gait amidst the open world. It’s wonderful to see him like this, and you’ll wonder later on if that pleased and unwound atmosphere isn’t why such a word managed to slip so easily past your lips. 

“Adrian.”

In an instant, your hand covers your mouth, and it’s a miracle you don’t simply fall to the dirt at your feet. You’ve paused in your step, meaning to draw his attention to a lone deer you caught sight of within the woodland that flanks the path beside you, and you can’t believe that the excitement of your discovery would be so much as to render you mindless.

Once,  _ one _ time before had you heard him mention his birth name, but you never dared even think to call him by it. You’ve long assumed Alucard to be the name he preferred, given it was the name he first provided, so why would it slip out so easily?

His eyes are bright and uncharacteristically surprised as his head turns to you, and your gut sinks even further. 

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” Your mind screams to look away from him in shame, but holding his stare despite your dread seems a fitting form of self-punishment.

“No,” he whispers, then louder, “no, no, don’t apologize. It is my name.”

“But… still,” you say, you regretful grimace deepening, “I didn’t mean to say it. I should’ve asked first, at least.”

Thoughtfully, he purses his lips, then pulls them into a small grin. “No, I’d… prefer it, actually. If you called me that.” 

“Wha--...Really?” A mirror would tell you that you’re gawking, but the fact escapes you in the moment.

“Yes, well…” The contents of the wicker-weaved basket he carries catch his attention suddenly, but you can’t see anything particularly interesting about them. “It’s been a while since I’ve been called by that name. The name my mother chose for me. I... don’t dislike the sound of it from your mouth.”

His eyes trail back to your face, his head tilted forward a bit as he regards you, and, as it happens, you understand now what exactly is so enthralling within that basket. Best to keep your eyes on it.

“Well, if it’s really alright…” 

“It is.” A gust of wind follows his words, blowing a few golden strands into his face, and he deftly brushes all of his hair to stream over his opposite shoulder. It's difficult to stop your eyes from following his graceful hand; so you don't. 

“...Thank you,” you say, though you know it’s rather silly, and your sheepishness only makes it more so. You’ll blame the bright sun above you from the warmth that blankets your face. 

Though you try your best not to picture it as such, it feels like you’ve been granted a privilege. As though, perhaps, the glass you’ve felt between you since the day you met has finally, truly begun to fracture, thin and delicate cracks blooming across the surface like the web of a spider, anticipating the shatter that may well transpire. 

With a glance to your side, you find that, expectedly, the creature that caused this exchange has disappeared from sight, and when you hesitantly resume your stride on the rugged path, Adrian is quick to meet your pace.

...Well, you may be looking too deeply into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adwian UwU


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why i feel such an urge to post as many chapters as possible before the next season drops, but im sure none of you are complaining. here's another one! tally ho!

“The angle’s changed again.”

You nearly wince. “Sorry.”

“Move your head just a little to the right.” He glances down, then back to you. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

“...Are you nearly finished?

His hand stills a moment, eyes slowly wrenching themselves from his work to strike you with a narrow look. “You did ask for this, you know.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” The urge to writhe is awful, but you manage for the hundredth time to keep it at arm’s length. “...A little embarrassing.”

“How so?” The gentle scratching of his instrument picks up again.

“Well, it didn’t occur to me that you’d have to stare at me for so long.”

He hums in sympathy to your plight. “Unfortunately, I have not yet mastered the art of drawing with my eyes closed, so you’ll have to forgive me.”

A laugh shoots from your nose. “If you tease me, I’ll only squirm around more.”

“If you squirm around any more than you already are, I might be inclined to perform an exorcism.”

“Adrian,” you whine, and he pauses in his efforts, allowing a silent laugh to shake his shoulders for a moment before he resumes.

“My apologies. Just a minute or so longer.”

You huff a sigh of resignation, and only realize that you’ve slouched over while doing so when Adrian hits you with another sharp yet patient glance and you reverse your error. 

As you endure the remainder of your self-imposed rigidity, your eyes wander the studio around you, climbing up the precarious wall of pigments, a vast number of hues stored in glass jars of different sizes and shapes, and the oils in which to mix them. The wall across from you wears a diverse range of artworks, from half finished paintings, to ink-scratched landscapes, to drawings so simple and intuitive that you might be inclined to believe were made by the man before you at half his current size. There's a recurring image among the artwork of a lovely woman with hair and a smile like Adrian's--of course, you see no need to ask who she is.

“Alright, you’re free to move as much as you please.”

With a dramatic sigh, you fall forward until your forehead touches your crossed knee, stretching your arms out wildly in relief. From there you stand, wobbling slightly at the sudden movement, and rise to your toes to stretch out your legs. When you’ve finished your recuperation, you find Adrian wearing that look that means he’s teetering on the edge of laughing at you.

“It’s not easy to act like a statue for such a long time, you know.”

“I regret to inform you that it’s been no more than ten minutes.”

You frown. “It was at _ least  _ half an hour.”

“Perhaps twelve.”

“Either way,” you sigh, “can I see what you’ve made now?”

As you step over to him, Adrian tilts the tablet affixed with vellum paper he’s been working on in your direction, and the sight of it steals a genuine gasp from your lungs.

“You… really drew this?"

“Should I assume that means that you like it?”

Almost mindlessly, you reach for the drawing and he hands it to you easily. You nearly can’t believe what you’re looking at. It resembles you as closely as if he’d traced your reflection from a mirror, and the precise, intricate lines of your form, the chair you sat in, and even some of the shelves behind you seem nearly impossible to have been made in such a short amount of time.

“Adrian, this is… remarkable, I…” He told you he could draw, thus leading to your request in the first place, but to think you would end up holding such a masterpiece! “How on Earth did you learn to draw like this?” 

“Only practice,” he explains. “Which I had quite a lot of time to do in this place.” 

You grin at him with warm gratitude. “This is incredible, really. I’ll have to put it up in my room.”

“Oh, please, if you’d like something to put up, at least let me spend a proper day or two on it,” he insists with a dismissive gesture, then tilts his head, frowning thoughtfully. “Or, if you can bear it, I suppose I could render a portrait of you in paints instead. Though, I’m afraid that will require considerably more time as a statue.”

You look at him in shock. If he can do this in half-or-less of an hour, what on Earth might he produce in two entire days? And he can paint as well?

A thought then occurs to you, and your expression falls into something timid.

“Could you, um…” You wonder why it feels so silly to ask. “Do you think you could teach me?”

“To draw?” he asks, wearing a hint of surprise. “...I’m not sure how effective of a teacher I’ll make, but I’d be happy to try. It’s not as though we’re drowning in things to entertain ourselves with.”

“No, but… I enjoy the quiet living. The days feel long and peaceful. You really have been spoiling me, Adrian. I’m sure one day something will call us back into action whether we like it or not, and I’ll feel like a little bird thrown from the nest.”

“A little bird,” Adrian echoes, and you feel as though you’ve done yourself in as a little smirk pulls at his lips. “I must admit, I do see the resemblance.”

“Oh, hush,” you plead, warm-faced. “But, really. Right now, it feels as though we have all the time in the world.”

“Perhaps we do,” he offers. “I am the keeper of this place, apparently--I have little need or desire to leave, even if it were asked of me. And I’ve told you before that your welcome bears no expiration.” 

...He keeps saying that.

“Don’t you worry you’ll come to regret such an offer?” you ask teasingly, as though to save yourself from the sincerity of these words he's given you so many times.

“Not at all.” 

Somehow, you knew he would say that. 

“Well, we need not think so far ahead right this minute,” you insist, wondering when you’ll cease to be flustered by such simple words from him. “It’s my turn to draw you.”

Adrian keeps his eyebrow raised as you carefully flip the paper to the other side on the tablet, but he easily gives you the tool--charcoal, you think--when you reach your hand towards him. Grinning almost mischievously, you return to your chair, and Adrian is quick to face you, filling the role of a model with neither question nor complaint. He even holds a little smile for you. 

Your amateur portrait does not take nearly as much time as Adrian’s skillful study, but you’re still shocked to see how deathly still he remains every time you look up at him from your work. On closer inspection, you aren’t even certain that he’s breathing. He seems to notice the vaguely concerned expression on your face, as you catch a twitch at the corners of his mouth once or twice.

When you finish your simple and frankly cute drawing, it’s hard not to laugh at yourself after having seen what lies on the other side of the page, but you turn it towards him with as much pride as you can muster. 

Adrian stands, steps over to you and gently accepts the tablet into his hands. He stares at it just long enough for self-consciousness to nip at your ankles, and ultimately turns his eyes to you with what you hope is a pleased expression.

“Now,  _ this  _ must be put on the wall.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, i shouldnt be posting this yet. i like to stay ahead of myself, and have at least one or two completed installments ready by the time i post another one, but even though i only really have little fragments of chapters in the works i just cant wait any longer. i wrote this one ages ago, and it might be my favorite, so i've just been dying to post it, short though it may be.

Clack, clack.

“Pardon my interruption, but would you like to accompany me on a walk?”

Adrian has not made a habit of approaching your quarters in your time at the castle. In fact, this is the first time since the day you were ill. 

Understandably, you nearly trip over your own shoes as you hasten to answer the door. 

As his face comes into view, glowing in the orange light of a flickering candle, you remember that he is a vampire; that he heard your mad scramble with even more clarity than you did. His lips are pursed, but there’s a twinkle in his golden eyes.

“Yes, I would.”

He raises his other hand, holding something long and dark that you didn’t notice before. 

“This may help with the cold,” he says, and you accept it from him with all the reverent care that a priest might use to cradle a holy relic.

It’s a cloak, black and woolen and lined with fur. You pull it over your shoulders and it’s certainly as heavy as it looks. Comforting, as well.

“Thank you, Adrian.”

The bitter cold of the evening air stings your face, but little else. It’s windy as well, not dreadfully so, but enough to send the outermost strands of Adrian’s hair twisting and swirling in rhythm with the fluttering leaves on the trees. He sets off walking, and you follow in contented silence until you’ve strayed so far down a forest path that you can no longer see the castle through the treetops.

“Do you have a particular destination in mind?” you wonder idly.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, no, this is just as well," you assure him. "There’s merit in wandering, and I imagine it would be difficult to get lost out here so long as you’re around.”

He’s quiet, so you turn your gaze to him, and see nothing but tree trunks and underbrush. 

There’s only a moment of uneasy panic before you spot him, leaning against the opposite side of a tree perhaps twenty paces further down the path, and you wonder how on Earth you managed to let him get so far ahead of you without you noticing. Leaning into a slight jog, you hurry over to him, but just as you attempt to touch his arm and regain his attention, it’s as though he was never there. 

Your eyes widen, a different sort of cold beginning to ache inside of you that Adrian’s cloak couldn’t hope to keep at bay. Eyes darting around, you find he is nowhere this time, and there’s an awful squeeze in your chest as you wonder whether you should simply sit still and wait for him, or try to figure out where he went. 

…Can you be sure he was even here at all?

“Are you looking for me?”

You nearly yelp, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively as your face shoots towards the direction of his voice. Upwards, well above your head, Adrian sits on a branch, staring down at you curiously. Relief fills you as an anxious breath abandons your lungs, but you narrow your eyes at him nonetheless.

“Are you playing with me?” you accuse, ever so slightly out of breath.

“A little bit.” 

“Since when have you been so impish?” you whine. His head tilts. “I nearly thought I’d lost my mind.”

“You’ve only now realized?” he teases. “You are aware that you sleep in a vampire’s castle?”

“Yes, well, I seem to have found a particularly nice one.”

Adrian drops from his perch, and though he does not land on you, of course, he comes so terribly close to doing so that it knocks the wind out of you anyway. Within the teeming symphony of the night that hums and whirs around you, he seems to have nothing to say. Your mind draws blank as well.

Faintly, you touch his cheek.

“Your face is warm,” you muse lowly, as though noting the fact for yourself.

“And your hand is very cold.”

“Sorry--”

Though you try to jerk your hand back apologetically, his fingers envelop your wrist, gently ushering your palm back to his cheek, and pressing his own hand atop yours.

“I don’t mind. I hardly feel it.”

The moment barely feels real, but the warmth of his cheek is testament enough to keep you grounded. His eyes feel gentle and piercing all at once, and even in the dull and biting cold, simply resting under his gaze warms you as would the radiant beams of the sun. 

Something is changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha! i did it! i fit the game title into the story! woohoo!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMERGENCY CHAPTER! i havent watched the season but ive seen MORE than enough spoilers and discussions about it to be APPALLED at the decisions made regarding adrian's character (and many others as well)! i understand many others feel the same, so i rushed to finish this one for all those who immediately binged the series or heard about what transpired and subsequently came in search of something to counteract the awful feelings that it caused. this indulgently fluffy little scene is my gift to you! not to pat my own back, but i'd much rather pretend this story is the actual canon that follows season 2, rather than the unfortunate torture-fest we were given u__u

“Adrian, I’m afraid I can’t hold my tongue any longer.”

You find him lounging across a velvet loveseat, his head propped up on the cylindrical pillow at its end and his eyelids fluttered closed. Evidently, this piece of furniture was not constructed with him in mind, as much of his spindly legs must hang from the opposite side. He’s found another spot of lonesome sunlight within the castle and lays peacefully under it’s glow, and you can’t help but think the entire scene appears quite… feline.

At your words, however, his eyes slowly open to regard you with a look of winsome serenity.

“Oh, dear,” he whispers, and you wonder if the hoarseness in his voice is from sleep. Has he had a nap? The thought pleases you. “Am I in for something unpleasant?”

“Possibly."

Adrian hums, pulling himself to sit properly upright and lightly ruffling his hair. “I’ll brace myself, then.”

The bright grin on your lips is offset by the accusatory narrowing of your eyes as you step closer to him, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “I seem to recall you turning into a wolf.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “Yes, that is something that I recall doing as well.”

“Is that something all vampires can do?”

“Mm, no, I don’t think so,” he muses, leaning over to rest his chin on his hand. “It’s more than just a vampiric ability; it additionally requires the use of magic, so it can be learned, but it isn’t inherent.”

“Is that so?” you remark vacantly, and Adrian does not miss the hopeful grin that you evidently cannot suppress. A knowing smile of his own breaks across his face.

“What you really mean to ask is if I’ll show you, isn’t it?” 

Well… No use in hiding it!

“If it isn’t too much of a bother…” You trail off politely, but your foot taps subconsciously in anticipation. “I didn’t get much of a look at it in the middle of all the fighting, is all, but don't feel pressured if you find it taxing or uncomfortable.”

“It's nothing of the sort. In truth, I’ve mostly refrained from taking that form in fear of startling you.” 

“Oh? You don’t think I’d recognize you?” you ask, feigning offense.

“I couldn’t be sure that you’d even seen when I did it the first time,” he admits.

“Please,” you sigh. “I’m sure I’d still recognize you even if you turned yourself into a magical cockroach.”

“Well... that seems extremely unlikely, but if I ever learn such a skill, I’ll be sure to test your theory.”

You giggle at his teasing, and as you do so, he straightens his posture again. For a moment, his eyes unfocus as though he’s zoning out quite heavily, but in the subsequent blink of an eye, a subtle woosh of air hits you and Adrian is no longer sitting on the sofa, but rather a large, stark white wolf with very familiar eyes.

“Oh, my goodness!” you nearly squeal, stepping closer to him, but doing your best not to seem overly giddy about it. He has (deliberately, you think) left just enough space on the rather small piece of furniture for you to squeeze yourself beside him, and you do so almost without thinking. 

You aren’t sure if pretty is the correct word to use to describe a large apex predator, but the appearance of Adrian’s wolf form is certainly striking. With neat, shining fur and sharp yellow eyes that easily betray his intelligence beneath the disguise, it is certainly the type of animal that one would be compelled to stop and gawk at, even if it might spell certain death.

“I suppose you can’t talk while you’re like this,” you muse, quietly buzzing with excitement, and Adrian blinks at you very slowly in response. “Yeah, I think it would be a little unnerving if you could.  _ That  _ would probably startle me.”

After a moment of your exuberant staring, Adrian lowers his head towards you, and your eyes pop open a little wider.

“Oh,” you note. There’s a moment of intense deliberation in your head to decide whether or not it would be strange to pet him as though he truly were a four-legged animal, but, well, he  _ is  _ offering. 

Gingerly, you run your hand over Adrian’s head, and the softness you’re met with makes a gasp catch in your throat. A little more confidently, you pet him again and again, delighting in the feeling. Almost without thinking at all, you reach over to scratch lightly behind his ear, and you worry briefly that you’ve taken it a little too far, but Adrian’s eyes fall closed contentedly as you do so and he leans himself the slightest bit further into your touch. The sight of it is so unusually cute that it has you fighting to suppress your disbelieving laughter, lest he get embarrassed. He even yawns with a little canine squeak after a few moments of such treatment, and now you're sure that you've caught him just after a nap. 

Adorable though it may be, you stop yourself soon after, retracting your hand cheerfully and giving him an appreciative grin.

“Thank you for showing me this, Adrian.”

Understanding the hint, another gust of wind makes you squint your eyes a bit, and suddenly, Adrian has returned beside you, sitting with rigid posture. Evidently, he is very aware of the... _atypical_ behavior he has exhibited. 

“Not at all,” he mutters, turning his head away from you, but he’s not nearly fast enough to hide the flush that so obviously stains his skin, and your face alights.

“It was very educational, actually,” you say, taking on a mischievous tone.

“...Was it?” he asks stiffly.

“Mmhmm," you hum, stretching the sound out to better tease him. "I think I know very well how best to spoil you now.”

Adrian chokes on a cough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, yes. the furry chapter. im sure at least some of you guessed it was coming eventually!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare Yourself

Adrian has been quite adept at keeping his grief to himself.

You’ve been aware of it, of course. In the way he excuses himself curtly from the moments you spend together at times, the long hours he disappears from your reach like a ghost, the gentle swerving of some conversations away from a delicate direction. But even he cannot hide it forever; no, you couldn’t bear him to.

Finally--inevitably--he breaks.

As you stand together, just before one of the many grand portraits of his mother that decorate the most pleasant corners of the castle, you begin to ask about her, as you’ve hesitated to do many times before. Though somewhat terse and awkward, Adrian recollects the nostalgia of his childhood at her side.

You don’t push him; you simply allow him to speak at his own pace, to share what he wishes to and to remember what he can bear to, and you watch him very carefully so that when his voice catches in his throat--the first tear rolls slowly down his cheek-- you are prepared, finally, for what must come. You steady yourself, root your feet to the stone beneath them as you watch the final brick fall out of place. His head wilts forward.

A sniffle.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes abruptly, wiping harshly at his eyes, and you can just see the tension haunting his body, pulling him taut and strained, quivering and verging on collapse. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing, _nothing_ to apologize for, Adrian,” you cry, and as though possessed by your ache to help him, you cling to him, push his face to your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to anchor him to the ground he rests so unsteadily upon. 

He grows rigid, stretching even thinner for the slightest moment while he tries to fight it as he long since has, but it is no use; he snaps, and the unfettered strands of himself wrap around you with equal desperation, and his face presses deep into the crook of your neck. 

“You don’t need to bury it,” you whisper to him, and tears well up in your eyes as well to see him like this. “You have been so strong, Adrian, and so kind, but you do not need to hide your pain from me any longer. Bear it openly, and I will share the weight, I promise you.”

He crumbles in your arms, shrinking in on himself, shuddering, pulling you into him as though you might cleanse him of this sorrow if he could only fit himself under your skin, and you wouldn’t let go of him with a knife at your throat. Dampness spreads along your shoulder in time, and the quiet, breathy gasps and sobs that scrape their way out of his throat ring hauntingly in your ear. It’s painful to see and to feel, but you’ve never been more glad that you decided to stay with him.

Catharsis. He has struggled free of himself to be seen, and neither your gaze nor your hand will falter before his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my word choice always feels much more dramatic and theatrical when im writing an angst scene. it almost makes me laugh reading it back through. like, who was i when i wrote this? someone pretentious, most likely.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i nearly can't believe i've made it to 18 chapters; and, in turn, that i've cruelly suffered you all to read 18 chapters without the gratification of genuine romance. but, isn't the suspenseful lead up more fun to watch than the aftermath? at least, that's what i think. i certainly hope no one is growing tired of the lack of "canonization," as it were, but you'll have to understand that Adrian's gentle heart cannot be rushed into such things!

"Adrian, do you… _really_ sleep in this thing?"

"I have, at times."

You give him an incredulous look. “You  _ have  _ been sleeping regularly, haven’t you?”

“A little bit, yes.” You hum with slight suspicion, but decide to believe him and return your attention to the large coffin under your fingertips. It very closely resembles the one he emerged from when you first met him, but perhaps a little more ornate.

"Isn't it cramped, and stuffy?" you complain on his behalf. Gently, you urge the door to open, and it’s a little heavier than you were expecting, but the groaning creak you _did_ expect to be met with never comes. The interior is red velvet and admittedly looks comfortable, but that can’t possibly outweigh the oppressive darkness that must fall upon you when you’re inside. "And… isn’t it lonely? It seems the most isolated way you could possibly sleep."

Your words burden his thoughts for a moment, but his conclusion arrives nonchalant. “I’ve never thought it to be so. If anything, it feels lonelier to sleep on your own, in a vast bed within a wide, inordinate room.” Your mind drifts back to the image of your own room, in the frigid blackness of a stone-encircled night. 

“...Yes, I see what you mean.” Stroking your hand along the coffin’s cozy interior, you bite sheepishly at your lip. “May I try it out?”

“By all means,” he says with a welcoming gesture, but his expression bears sign of perplexity; as though he can’t imagine why you’d wish to do so. 

You heave yourself up into the strange vessel with no small effort, as it rests at an ascending angle a couple feet off of the ground, and struggle a little to maneuver yourself around to face outward. The walls are plush, but it’s difficult to imagine actually sleeping in such a position. A little giggle leaves your mouth at the strange feeling provided by this distinctly vampiric perspective.

“So?” you prompt. “Do I look like a vampire?”

“Hm, not quite,” he remarks, and tilts his head in thought as he examines you. “The vicious fangs and sickly complexion are, to the detriment of the illusion, nowhere to be found.”

“Well, perhaps one day,” you sigh with feigned pity. “Now, close it, please. I want to see how dark it is.”

He does as you ask, and goodness, is it dark! Though the fact that the coffin’s door resides no more than a foot before you does not elude you, you can’t even begin to perceive it’s depth with your own eyes. 

Adrian’s scent resides heavily within, especially so after cutting off the outside, and the lack of sight or sound makes you feel as though you’ve been submerged in him; which, tangentially, begs the question of how often he truly does find sleep here, for him to stain its velvet walls like fragrance on the skin. For some reason, your flesh burns a little too warm for comfort, and you may be fooling yourself in deeming it a mere consequence of the enclosed space. You knock lightly at the door. 

When the coffin door swings open once again, he finds you rigidly straight with your eyes closed shut and your arms crossed stiffly over your chest in the pose of the dead. After a moment’s pause, you peek one eye open, and Adrian both tries and fails to keep his countenance unamused.

“It was my impression of you,” you explain, with well-suppressed mischief. “When we first met.”

“I could find that offensive, you know.”

“I offer my apologies. Though I do think it was doomed from the start, since I still wore a shirt.”

“Goodness,” he remarks, with a downward shake of his head that you suspect is meant to hide his smile. “And to think it's vampires said to be merciless.”

“Is it? Then please mercilessly help me out of here.”

The step feels taller on the way down, and even with Adrian’s hand steadying your own, you stumble down a little quicker than you intend and find yourself ingloriously clutching a handful of his shirt to stop yourself from colliding with him completely. Immovable as he is, Adrian need not take ne’er a single step back to keep his balance, which only lends you to feel sillier as you stand leaning into him to regain your own, one hand still raised high in his gentle hold.

“Did you want to dance?” he jests, and you release his shirt to lightly smack your hand over the same spot on his chest.

“We can’t all be paragons of grace such as yourself, good sir,” you attest, willing the florid heat away from your face with little success. 

“That would’ve been amply graceful, had I been prepared to follow it through with a twirl.”

Your intended huff becomes more of a laugh. “You tease me too much.”

His eyes crinkle. “It’s become a habit.”

He lowers his hand, though keeps it entwined with yours, and you wish he’d refrain from lavishing you with such attentive stares; each time, you can only barely endure their depth.

“...Then let’s dance,” you resolve yourself to say, and hold his other hand as well. Adrian’s eyebrows raise as you walk around him, leading him towards greater open space, and he follows you as easily as though your hands were an extension of his own.

He clears his throat. “Well, I’m afraid I  _ was  _ only teasing in this regard. Dance is not among my set of talents.”

“Oh?” you remark, amusement pulling gladly at your lips. “I’m actually quite happy to hear that.”

“You wish for us to make fools of ourselves?” He doesn’t seem particularly averse to the idea.

“No.” You release his hands to separate your fingers and press them together again, palms flatly met, while a curious grin swells on his face that mirrors the beaming one of your own. “Because we’ve finally uncovered something that _I_ might teach to _you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been reading a lot of gothic literature lately, so i'm sure my writing reads a little more archaic than usual. i don't think i'd dare use a word such as "ne'er" if not for the subject matter taking place in the 15th century; although, i am liable to use it (sparingly) in particular conversations, so i'm not sure what the potential hang-up would be.


End file.
